


Primal Fear

by SilenceIsGolden15



Series: Voltron Oneshots [29]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood and Gore, Courtroom Drama, Detective Shiro (Voltron), Foster Kid Keith (Voltron), Gen, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Knives, Lawyer Allura, Murder, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 18:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16837996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceIsGolden15/pseuds/SilenceIsGolden15
Summary: They say violence is never the answer, but the real world is a little more complicated than that.





	Primal Fear

**Author's Note:**

> So continuing with my theme of fics with darker themes, I will remind you guys to mind the tags and be careful! That being said I hope you enjoy.

By this point in his life, Takashi Shirogane was more than aware that life was very rarely fair. It wasn’t fair when his father died when he was barely five years old. It wasn’t fair when that car accident took his arm. The things he saw happening to innocent people every day on this job sure as hell wasn’t fair. He really thought he was used to it by now. 

But at this moment, sitting behind the two way mirror with an inch thick file in front of him, that fact was more obvious to him than it had ever been. 

The suspect sitting on the other side of the glass was barely more than a kid. Seventeen, according to his file. His hands were cuffed to the table in front of them, his ankles similarly restrained to the floor. It looked like overkill on this kid who was probably one hundred pounds soaking wet, but the effect was belied by the blood that was splattered all over him and stuck his black hair to the back of his neck. 

With a sigh, Shiro turned his attention back to the file that sat in his lap, all of the information they’d been able to dig up on this kid since his arrest four hours earlier. It told a sad story; a kid abandoned by his father at the age of seven and thrown into the foster system. The first three or four homes were accompanied by short stays and lengthy testimonies of abuse that Shiro skimmed over for the sake of his own sanity. As the years went on the stays grew longer and the testimonies less numerous, though the sheer number of different places told him the abuse hadn’t stopped. 

The kid had merely learned there was no point in telling if he would never wind up anywhere better. 

The last page in the file brought them to where they were now. Keith Kogane, 17, had been sent to live with Mr. Ethan Bachelor and Mrs. Eileen Bachelor six months before. Since then there had been no incidents, none of the usual fights or disciplinary issues the file hinted Keith was prone to. Then, at 9:43 pm, Mrs’ Bachelor had called 911 in a panic, blubbering that her foster son had gone mad and killed her husband.

Police arrived on the scene to find a teenage boy on the floor next to a bloody corpse, holding a knife. He hadn’t resisted arrest, and now at 1 am, here they were. 

Briskly, Shiro set his shoulders back and got to his feet, holding the file securely under his arm. This was going to be a tough interrogation. 

The boy flinched at the clack of Shiro’s dress shoes as he entered the room, but didn’t look up from the metal table. Shiro feigned nonchalance and took a seat across from the suspect.

“My name is Detective Shirogane.” He said, idly flipping through the file as though he hadn’t just read it cover to cover. “And you’re Keith Kogane, right?”

The kid didn’t answer, so Shiro pointedly slapped the file onto the table. He flinched again before nodding a bit sullenly, and for some reason Shiro felt bad for the intimidation tactic. 

_ Rein it in Shiro, he’s just a kid.  _

“And you went to live with Mr. and Mrs. Bachelor about six months ago, is that correct?”

Keith nodded again, and Shiro bit back a sigh. Clearly the kid wasn’t going to be forthcoming with information, so he would just have to be a bit more forthright than usual. 

“You do realize why you’re here, yeah? You’re a suspect in a murder. We’ve got you with a knife next to a body, and right now all the evidence says it was you.”

Keith didn’t answer at all that time, and Shiro sat forward, planting his elbows on the table and a harsh expression on his face. Time to go hard. 

“Keith, why did you kill Ethan Bachelor?”

Keith finally looks up, glittering indigo eyes verging on violet, and deigns to open his mouth for the first time. 

“I had to.”

Shiro’s eyebrows disappear behind his white bangs. He’d been expecting a lot of things-- an angry denial, a tearful confession, a bratty request for a lawyer-- but not a dull  _ I had to _ . 

“What? What does that mean?”

“I had to.” Keith quietly insists again. Shiro takes a moment to rethink his approach, and decides on softening his voice and leaning back to appear non threatening. 

“Why did you have to?”

“He-” Keith snaps his mouth shut, as though he hadn’t meant to say anything, and shook his head mutely. 

“Come on, kid. I need to know the whole story.”

Keith’s hands moved, tugging as though trying to move closer to him, but they merely tugged on the chains and refused to go further. 

“You wouldn’t believe me.” It isn’t bitter, merely resigned, making something clench in Shiro’s chest.

Sometimes he hated this job. 

“Maybe. Tell me anyway.”

Keith’s eyes narrow, studying his hands carefully as he considers. Eventually he sighs. 

“Look on his computer.” He muttered, not looking up. “I know he hid them on there. They’ll explain everything.”

“What will? What did he hide?”

“The videos.”

* * *

Thanks to pulling some creative strings with a friend in the tech department, Shiro has access to the victims hardrive by the next afternoon. There he finds, just as Keith said and hidden in a labyrinth of seemingly inconspicuous files, a collection of videos titled with nothing more than a date. The thumbnails are all dark, telling him nothing of the contents. 

Three other detectives stand behind his desk, ready to watch the videos with him and serve as extra witnesses. Shiro selects the first video in chronological order, recognizing the date as two days after Keith was sent to live with the family. 

The video begins with a view of the carpeted hallway floor, the camera jostling as it moves forward and the bated breath of the victim sounding over the speakers. The light green tinge to the screen tells him it was filmed at night, after the lights had been turned out. The person carrying the camera turns left and enters another room through an empty door frame, and against the far wall can be seen a shape that vaguely resembled a bed and someone sleeping on it. 

His stomach twists uncomfortably, and a quick glance at his fellow detectives tell him he’s not the only one. Back on screen the camera has approached the bed, revealing the sleeping person to be Keith, whose eyes are already fluttering open as the man carrying the camera reaches out to brush his hair off of his forehead. 

The camera is turned and set against something beside the bed, a nightstand by the looks of it, and before Keith can fully wake up the person is climbing on top of him, one hand covering his mouth and the other reaching behind his head. 

It’s still dark, but the man is recognizable as Ethan Bachelor. Keith is struggling, yelling through the hand muffling him and frantically kicking and punching, but he’s left prone in this position and Ethan is much bigger than him. With one hand the man strips Keith’s pillowcase from its pillow and shoves it into his mouth before flipping him onto his stomach, one hand holding his wrists together over his head. 

Shiro looks away after that, but the other detectives do not. 

The video lasts about ten minutes, and after it’s over Shiro manages to keep his lunch down long enough to check how many there are. There are 58 videos in total, and Shiro excuses himself to the bathroom before vomiting. 

* * *

The next time he sees Keith it’s two days later in the interrogation room of the holding facility. He’s cleaner now, scrubbed free of dried blood and dressed in the usual uniform, but it does nothing to erase the dead look on his face. He’s not bound this time, but he still huddles in his chair, trying to make himself as small as possible. Shiro feels sick for the millionth time since he’d started going through the videos. 

He still hadn’t gotten through all of them. 

This time, Keith spoke first. “Did you find the videos?”

Shiro nods, and Keith’s face goes through a range of emotions. Relief, anger, embarrassment, shame, resignation. Shiro didn’t like the questions he had to ask now, but he knew it was necessary for the case. It was motive. 

“How often did he do that to you?”

Keith blinks slowly, too carefully, like he’s trying to keep himself together without being obvious about it. 

“Every two or three days.” His voice is faint. 

“Always after dark?”

“Yeah. Always after dark, always in my room. He watched me like a hawk every other time-- I couldn’t hide from him.” Shiro waits patiently as Keith draws in a shaking breath. Honestly, the more he learned the more he was on Keith’s side, as crazy as that sounds. Hell, if Bachelor was still alive Shiro might have killed him himself. 

“Did you ever try to tell anyone?”

“Once.” Keith said with a nervous gulp. “I tried to tell my foster mom. She said I was lying and locked me in the coat closet for three hours as punishment. That was April 12th.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “You remember the exact date?”

“Yes. She must’ve told her husband, because that was the worst night.”

Shiro hadn’t made it to April yet, and now he was dreading it more than he’d ever dreaded anything in his life. 

“I see.” Shiro sat forward with a tired sigh. He hadn’t slept much these past few days. “Keith, I need you to tell me about the night you killed him. I really need the whole story.”

Keith shifted nervously in his chair, looking down but keeping Shiro in his periphery. It was clear he didn’t feel safe. 

“I, uh, decided I couldn’t deal with it anymore.” One of his sneakered feet swished over the tile floor, back and forth, swish swish. “And I had my dads knife, so that night I hid next to the door and waited for him to come in. He did, and I threatened him with it.”

“Did you say anything to him?”

Keith nodded jerkily, face turning red and throat working as he undoubtedly held back tears. “I-- I told him if he touched me again I’d hurt him. I didn’t really mean it, I thought he’d back off, I didn’t think he’d actually keep going.” He gulped again and rubbed at his wrists where they were still raw from the cuffs. “But he did, and I knew if I didn’t do anything it would only get worse, so I stabbed him. And I kept stabbing him until I was sure he was dead.”

A light tapping sound echoing in the room told Shiro that the kid was shaking, but he still wouldn’t look up completely. Shiro didn’t know what to say. The kid was, by the definition of the law, a murderer and a criminal. He shouldn’t try to comfort him. But at the same time he was also just a kid. A kid who’d been brutally abused by people he should’ve been able to trust. 

Once again, Shiro was reminded that life wasn’t fair. 

Caught between the two lines of thinking, Shiro opts to say nothing and leaves the detention center. However, on the way to his car, he pulls out his cellphone and dials a familiar number.

“Hey, Allura. It’s Shiro. I have a favor to ask.”

* * *

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

The walls were absolutely not closing in on him. The bed wasn’t crushing up against the sink with the sound of shattering ceramic. The door wasn’t creaking and groaning as the room shrunk and compressed it. This wasn’t a dark closet like he’d been in so many times before. It was a well lit, relatively well sized prison cell. He was fine.

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

That slick feeling on his palms wasn’t blood. It was merely sweat from fisting his hands into the sheets on his cot. Years ago he had read a play, Macbeth he thought it was, and all he could remember from the classroom of students being forced to read it outloud line by line was someone saying, “Out, damned spot.” He definitely understood that character now, even if he couldn’t remember who it was.

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

The mattress under his back wasn’t the lumpy one he used to sleep on. The doorframe wasn’t empty, and the weight on his chest was just anxiety, not someone climbing on top of him. The door was locked, Ethan was dead, everything was fine. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

_ Clang clang clang. _

His head jerked up to see a scowling uniformed guard standing outside the door of his cell, peering in through the window. The guard looked down as the handle jiggled, then the door opened.

“You’ve got a visitor, Kogane.” Said the man in a gruff voice. Keith pulled himself upright and swung his feet to the floor, and only then did the guard step to the side. He was expecting to see Detective Shirogane again, but instead was greeted by the face of a young woman in her mid twenties, dressed smartly in a pressed grey suit and silver hair tumbling down her back. 

She gave Keith a confident smile, but Keith didn’t return it. 

“I’ll be right outside the door.” The guard said to the woman, as though trying to comfort her. He turned his head and fixed a glare on Keith. “So no funny business, you hear me?”

Keith automatically nodded his head, the way he always did when someone spoke to him in  _ that  _ tone. The  _ agree with me or get hurt  _ tone. 

The woman stepped inside the cell, startlingly out of place with her graceful movements and wealthy clothes, and shot a smile at the guard.

“I’m sure everything will be just fine.” She had a British accent, which made Keith raise his eyebrows. “Thank you.”

The guard shot him one last warning look before closing the cell door, the sound of the metal slamming making Keith’s shoulders jump up around his ears. 

“Who are you?” He was blurting out before the woman could speak first. She didn’t seem put out by his brusque attitude, she merely smiled and took a few more steps into the cell, heels clicking loudly against the concrete floor.

“My name is Allura Altea. I’m a lawyer with Altea & Associates.”

Keith shrank back a bit in practiced wariness. “You’re not the public defender?”

Allura smiled gently at him and dragged over the metal chair from the tiny desk that was crammed into the corner, effortlessly dropping into a seated position with perfect posture, like a princess. 

“No, I’m not. Though I would like to take on your case, if you’d be interested.”

Keith drew in his arms, wrapping them firmly around his abdomen in a protective wall. This wasn’t a good sign-- adults didn’t care about him unless they wanted something in return. 

“Why would you? I don’t have any money to pay you with.”

“I wouldn’t charge.” 

Keith had never completely understood the term ‘too good to be true’ until that moment. Then he knew exactly what it meant. His first instinct was to scoff and pronounce bullshit, but mouthing off was more than likely to get him hit, so he made a cage of his teeth and trapped the words behind them. 

“I know you don’t believe me.” Said Allura with a soft smile, which only made Keith’s guts twist tighter. “But please understand, my family is rich from our company as it is. I can afford to take on a case or two when it’s morality on the line rather than money. Shiro-- I mean, Detective Shirogane told me some of the details of the case, and I really would like to help you. If you’ll have me.”

He felt a little sick. Just knowing that the detectives working the case had seen the videos was bad enough, but now this woman knew what Ethan had done to him too. It made hot shame flush up the sides of his face and paint his cheeks red, just like the blood had done a few short days before. 

Allura tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear, a small gesture that softened her intimidating exterior just slightly. 

“Keith,” Her voice is far too soft, he doesn’t trust it, can’t trust it, “I need you to understand. I don’t walk away from cases like these if I can help it. This is why I became a lawyer in the first place-- I see people like you who have been failed by the system, over and over again, and I don’t want it to go on failing you.”

He doesn’t trust her, can’t trust anybody, but what other choice does he have? If he says no to her they’ll just stick him with a public defender that will still charge him and he’ll be paying off a forty thousand dollar debt with three dollars an hour prison labor. 

“Fine.” He forces himself to say, and watches the relief and hope blossom in her eyes. He wishes he could feel the same way. 

“Excellent.” She smiled again, and reached into the little briefcase she had brought along to retrieve a pad of paper, a pen, and a tape recorder. Keith tastes bile. “I know this is hard, but if I’m going to work this case correctly, I need you to tell me everything.” 

* * *

Shiro has seen a lot of bad things as a cop. Brutal killings, people beaten within inches of their lives, lives torn apart with no remorse. But nothing is as bad as the video from Ethan Bachelor’s computer labeled ‘April 12’. 

The video is longer than the others, nearly half an hour, and Shiro has to stop it six times to pull himself together. Four of those times he vomits. After the second time he calls Matt, the friend who had gotten him the videos to begin with. He doesn’t play it again until he arrives, but he still makes him stay in the other room while he watches. It feels like an invasion of Keith’s privacy, and Shiro explains this to Matt the fourth time he vomits, spitting into the sink with a wry chuckle. 

“Sounds ridiculous, worrying about the privacy of a murderer.”

“It’s not.” Matt sounds choked, and Shiro doesn’t blame him. He’s never let himself break down like this in front of him, except twice after the accident that took his arm. It must be scary, and it must give him some idea of what the videos contained. “He’s just a kid.”

“I read his file.” Shiro turns on the faucet, scoops up a handful of water, rinses his mouth and spits. “No one has ever helped him. He thought there was no other way out.” 

Matt reaches out to lay a comforting hand on his back. 

“And the worst part is, he was probably right.”

“Shiro…”

“I need to call Allura.”

* * *

“Alright, let’s go over how it’s going to go in court.” 

It’s the third time Allura has been to see him, and she doesn’t look as put together as she normally does. Her makeup is messy, stray silver hair dances around her head in a confused halo, and red rims her eyes. Keith wonders to himself if the detective showed her the videos. As much as he hates the idea, he has to admit that they would be useful in court, at least. 

“They’re going to state the charges, and then the Judge will ask how you plead. What do you say?”

Keith knows a trick question when he hears one.

“I don’t say anything. You answer for me.”

Allura’s lip quirked a little. “Correct. But do you know what I’m going to say?”

Keith shrugged a little listlessly, leaning back in his chair. This time they’re in the interrogation room again, a solid metal table between the two of them. At least he’s not chained this time. 

“I dunno. Guilty, probably. They’ll reduce the sentence if I just go along with it, right?”

Her face melts back into the sad frown he’d become very well acquainted with during the last few visits. 

“No. We’re going to plead not guilty by self defense.”

Keith blinked in surprise. He knew he was guilty, everybody knew he was, everyone had seen him with the knife and the blood and he’d already confessed. He’d resigned himself to living the next thirty years at least in prison. What Allura was saying had just… never occurred to him. 

“Nobody is going to believe that.” He says without thinking, then cringes at his belligerent tone. Allura doesn’t even react. 

“You’d be surprised.” She replied evenly. “You’re a child, or you were when you killed him, even if you’ll be eighteen by the time the trial is finished. A child with a long history of being abused and unable to trust the adults in your life. Backed into a corner with no other option. If we can make the jury sympathize with you, we can do this.”

Keith frowned at the floor, considering. Of course going free was more appealing than being locked up for the rest of his life, but was it even worth getting his hopes up over? He’d done that before, only to have the rug yanked right out from under him. Disappointment is always more bitter when you don’t see it coming. 

“But there are some downsides, of course.” Allura leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. “The prosecution will want to put you on the stand. They’ll ask why you didn’t tell your social worker or someone else. They’ll try to convince the jury you could’ve gotten away without killing him, or suggest that killing is never the answer, no matter what they did. And that’s going to be hard to hear, and even harder to answer to.”

“It’s alright.” He responds, and even he is surprised by how steady his voice is. “I’ve heard it before.” But his hands are shaking under the table, and he clenches his fists until his knuckles turn white. 

His mouth continues without his explicit consent as he spoke his next question.

“Are you going to use the videos?”

He sees Allura freeze, watches her mouth twist, observes how her eyes narrow. 

“It would be a powerful tool,” She said slowly, “But I understand if you would rather we didn’t use them.”

“No.” Keith’s brain has turned itself off at this point. “If we’re going to do the self defense thing, we need them.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

* * *

The trial comes three months after the killing. Shiro dresses nervously the morning of the first day, knowing both sides would want his testimony as the detective conducting the investigation. He’d only finished the last of the videos the week before, and after securing permission from Keith via Allura, had sent her the videos to watch for herself. He hadn’t been this nervous for a trial in a long time. 

The feeling in the courthouse is heavy. There was an ocean of reporters outside that Shiro had to dodge to get inside, and by the time he made it to sanctuary he was already feeling frazzled, a feeling which only increased when he caught sight of the prosecution team. 

Honerva, the star lawyer of the Daibazaal firm, was a legend around the station. If you really wanted someone behind bars, you hoped to get Honerva on the prosecution. She was succinct, persuasive, and knew when to be calm and when to be an emotional sledgehammer to crack the jury. Allura was all of those things too, but Honerva had the advantage of several decades more experience. Her presence didn’t bode well for Keith, and as Shiro found his seat in the courtroom he felt his stomach churning with nerves. 

Keith was small in his borrowed suit for the high profile case, shuffled into the room with his hands and ankles shackled as was customary. He kept his head down and didn’t look up, despite probably being able to feel every set of eyes in the room lasered in on him. 

The Judge entered last, a short woman with bobbed brown hair, and everyone got to their feet. The two lawyers struck intimidating figures at the front of the room-- one regal, back straight and chin high, and the other sharp like a razor blade, all severe white hair and high, gaunt cheekbones. 

The formalities continued. Keith was being charged with second degree murder, and Honerva began the trial by weaving a story of a generous man taking an underprivileged orphan into his home and being brutally killed in cold blood in return. 

“Though Mr. Kogane may have the appearance of a child,” She said, ending her opening statement with a dramatic flourish, “Do not let it deceive you from his true nature. Underneath, he is nothing but a killer.” 

When Allura struck back, she struck back hard. Her opening statement painted a very different picture of life in the Bachelor household, an image of a child who couldn’t trust or confide in anyone around him, who was punished for seeking asylum from his abusive foster father, and was finally pushed down a path of no return. 

Shiro carefully watched Keith, trying to gauge his reactions, but it was difficult. He kept his head bowed and didn’t move an inch. And as the prosecution began it’s case, Shiro couldn’t help feeling nervous. Honerva was going to try to convince the jury that Keith had planned the killing, and if she played it right, she might just succeed. 

The imperious lawyer paced the length of the courtroom, brandishing the bloody knife in it’s evidence bag. She spent a good hour going over the evidence, the 911 call, the witness reports, Keith’s admissions in the interrogation room. She mentioned the abuse, but only in passing, to provide motive, instead focusing on this idea she had constructed of Keith, plotting and planning how to take out his foster father, how to take revenge.

The first witness she called was Keith’s social worker, a pale slip of a woman who seemed just as keen as Honerva to get Keith thrown behind bars. She detailed the number of fights Keith had gotten into during his teen years, the sheer number of foster homes he’d gone through. Of course, Honerva neglected to ask why he’d gone through so many, content to let the jury assume it was Keith’s fault. 

Allura wasn’t going to let that stand. 

“Ms. Aspen,” She said once she was given the option to cross-examine, “You mentioned that Keith went through a number of foster homes before being placed with the Bachelors.” That was another difference-- Allura called him Keith, Honerva called him Mr. Kogane. “On the official record, are there reasons given for why he had to leave those homes?”

Ms. Aspen frowned. Allura had been specific-- asked what was listed in the official records. She couldn’t lie about that without being caught out immediately, and as his social worker she had no reason not to know what the files said. 

“Yes, there are reasons given.” She was going to play hard to get. 

“What were those reasons?”

“You’ll have to be more specific, they were different for every home.”

Allura turned and paced back to her table to retrieve the copy of Keith’s file she’d had printed out. The social workers already thin lips flattened even further. With the official thing sitting right in front of her, she couldn’t lie or try to twist the truth at all without Allura calling her out and putting her previous testimony into contention. 

Shiro smirked. Allura was smart. 

“Let’s start with the first one. The Mariposa’s. How long did Keith stay with them?”

“Objection!” Honerva said, getting to her feet. “The defendant's past families have no bearing on this case.”

“On the contrary,” Retorted Allura, “You used his past altercations as evidence, despite not having been arrested for any of them. I see no reason why this should not also be considered.”

“Objection denied.” The judge responded. “Continue, Ms. Altea.”

“He stayed with them for three months.” 

“How old was he?”

“Eight.”

“And why was he pulled from the home?”

“It was discovered that they’d been starving him.” The social worker admitted reluctantly, eliciting a murmur from the jury. “As punishment for a bad grade.”

“How long?”

“About two weeks.”

Allura nodded, content that she was telling the complete truth, and moved on. 

“What about the second family? Why did he leave them?”

Ms. Aspen slumped in her chair, apparently realizing her previous tactic had been rendered useless. Allura wasn’t going to stop until the jury understood that being moved from home to home was for Keith’s safety, not an indication of his character. 

“He was admitted to the hospital for a broken arm. The family’s eldest son was responsible.”

“And the third family?”

“Keith told a teacher that he hadn’t been allowed to sleep in his bedroom, instead being locked in a closet for the entire night.”

As the questions continued, Shiro felt his smirk dropping into a heavy frown. Before, when he’d read Keith’s file, he’d skimmed these portions for his own sake. Now he was hearing it in detail, and he found himself looking more closely at the social worker. This pattern of abuse… either Keith had unimaginably bad luck, or someone had been putting him in bad homes on purpose. 

But why?

After Allura was finished roasting the witness, and the jury looked properly shaken, the judge called an hour long recess. Out in the hall Shiro managed to catch Allura’s eye, and the two of them ducked into a discreet corner. 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She asked as soon as she drew near, and Shiro responded with a tense nod. 

“I didn’t notice before, but hearing it all out loud… it’s weird. Every single home he’s been to has been abusive. What are the chances of that?”

“Very low.” Allura narrowed her eyes dangerously. “Let’s get through this trial, maybe we’ll find out more. We can worry about it after all of this.”

Immediately after the recess Shiro was called to the stand. He kept himself composed and carefully didn’t look at Keith while Honerva paced in front of him, trying to be intimidating. Maybe to the jury, but not to him. 

“So, Detective Shirogane, you are the lead detective on this case, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Is it true that the defendant was found at the crime scene with the murder weapon in hand?”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“And after he was apprehended, you were the one to conduct the interrogation, correct?”

“Yes.”

“What happened in that interrogation?”

“He wasn’t very vocal at first.” Shiro was choosing his words with great care, eyeing the jury and reading their expressions. “So I tried to push, asked him straight up why he killed Ethan Bachelor.”

“And what was his response?”

“He said he had to.”

“So he confessed to the crime?”

“Objection!” Called Allura, darting to her feet. “This trial is not about whether or not Keith killed Mr. Bachelor, but rather if he was justified in doing so.”

“Sustained.” 

Honerva frowned at Shiro, who kept his face carefully blank. 

“No further questions.” She growled before retreating back to her place. Allura rose to cross, and the two of them traded subtle smiles as she approached the stand. 

“Detective Shirogane, as the lead on this case, you’re intimately familiar with the details of it, as well as the defendant's past, right?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“And do you think he’s guilty of this charge?”

“Objection!” This time it was Honerva, words echoing like a gunshot, and only Shiro saw Allura’s eyes roll in irritation. “The defense is attempting to present the opinion of one man as factual evidence.”

“Sustained.” Answered the judge, making Allura scowl. “Please rephrase the question, Ms. Altea.”

“Very well. In your personal opinion, Detective, should Mr. Kogane be jailed for the death of Ethan Bachelor.”

“No.” Shiro answered evenly, making a ripple of murmurs run through the room. Allura smiled at him. 

“No further questions.”

* * *

It was the afternoon of the second day when Honerva called Keith to the stand.

By all rights, Shiro didn’t have to be there that day. His role in the trial was over. He could’ve stayed home, could’ve worked on his other cases, could’ve put the whole thing behind him. But he didn’t. Really, he couldn’t. He had to know what happened to Keith. 

The boy made his way to the stand carefully, doubtless feeling the burn of all of the eyes in the room pinned to his back. He was obviously pale, the chains around his wrists clinking quietly as his hands trembled. Honerva stood like a statue, completely unheeding of his distress.

For a moment, she lets the silence reign, lets the tension build. Then she takes a single step forward, a single angry click of her heel bouncing against the walls, and Keith flinched. All Shiro could see was the back of her head, but he could imagine the smirk she wore and it made his stomach clench with anger. 

“How long did you live with the Bachelors, Mr. Kogane?”

His voice is soft, even with the help of the microphone. “Six months.”

“And the alleged abuse,” Shiro feels himself bristle, “Was continuing this entire time?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” 

“I see. And did you, at any point, attempt to contact your social worker?”

Shiro watched as Keith’s eyes found the woman in the crowd before fluttering to the floor. 

“I thought about it, but no, I didn’t.”

Honerva didn’t ask why, she simply plowed onwards, and Allura scribbled something down on her notepad. 

“Did you tell anyone at all before resorting to violence?”

“Yes, I told my foster mother.”

Honerva visibly paused in her pacing, but recovered so quickly Shiro wasn’t sure it had happened at all. 

“Your foster mother, Eileen Bachelor?”

“Yes.”

All eyes found the weepy widow sitting in the front row, who blanched and hid her face in her hands to avoid their scrutiny. Even Honerva glanced over, though she was much more subtle about it. Seems Eileen hadn’t been completely honest with her lawyer. 

“And what was Ms. Bachelor’s response to your accusation?”

“She said I was lying.” Keith answered, face twisting into a scowl. “Then she locked me in the coat closet for three hours as punishment. And she told Ethan.”

Honerva’s lips pursed. “Did you attempt to inform anyone else? The police?” 

Keith’s shoulders slumped, that resigned look returning to his face, and Shiro clenched his hands into fists against his knees. Honerva was going to just ignore what he’d said, try to make it his fault for not trying harder when no one believed him. 

“No.” Keith could have elaborated here, could have explained that he thought no one would believe him, but he didn’t. Because no one would believe him. Shiro’s heart hurt. 

“And the night you killed Ethan, you hid behind the door, correct? And you threatened to kill him?”

“Not kill.” Keith’s attempt at defending himself was half hearted at best. “I told him he’d better stay away from me before I hurt him. That’s what I said. But he just smiled and kept coming at me.”

“So you decided the best course of action was not to run, or hide, but to attack him?”

If Keith shrunk himself any smaller he would’ve disappeared. 

“I’ve tried running and hiding before. It never worked, he always found me and then it would just be worse.”

Unexpectedly, Honerva’s voice became soft. “Look, I understand.” Her tone was trying to be gentle, but came off as sickly sweet instead. Poisonous, and anyone with eyes could see Keith tensing up. “You were scared, and angry, and you wanted revenge.”

Keith shook his head mutely. Honerva paused to consider her next move, and after a moment of silence murmured, “No further questions.” And walked away from the stand. 

When Allura spoke to Keith in a soft voice, it was real and genuine, not fake and sour. Still Keith seemed spooked, and it took her several repetitions of his name before he’d look up at her. 

“Keith, you said you considered telling Ms. Aspen, but you didn’t. Why not?”

Keith looked to the woman again. Something hardened in his eyes, along the line of his jaw. 

“Before she put me with the Bachelors,” He began, voice trembling and fragile like a mug balancing on the edge of a coffee table, ready to tip, “She gave me an ultimatum. She said that she-- she was sick of de-dealing with me. And, uh, if I didn’t-- If I didn’t--” He had to stop and take a breath. Shiro stole a glance at the social worker-- she was staring Keith down angrily, and he had to look away in order to keep speaking. 

“She said… If I couldn’t make this family work until I was eighteen, she would dig up some of my old files and get me thrown in juvie.” He stopped to breathe in, one two three four. “So I tried to tough it out, tried to just… deal with it, I guess, but I just-- I couldn’t--” 

“It's alright, Keith.” Allura soothed as best she could from the other side of the stand. He straightened up a bit, put his shoulders back. 

“I tried to tell Eileen, but she didn’t do anything. So I figured, if I could scare Ethan, maybe it would stop.”

“What was the plan, Keith? Did you ever actually intend to hurt Ethan?”

Keith shook his head hard. “No, no, I didn’t actually want to hurt him. I just wanted to scare him-- I thought if I made myself seem like less of an easy target he’d leave me alone. But he didn’t stop, and I guess, I think I, I just didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want to be stuck there anymore, and I just… panicked.” 

His breath hitched, and he craned his head downwards, trying to conceal the tears. “I didn’t want to get hurt anymore.”

“Thank you for telling us.” Allura murmured to him before stepping back to face the judge. 

“No further questions.”

* * *

Day three is when the defense finally gets to make its case. Allura makes sure it’s a good one. 

She plays three of the videos from Ethan’s computer, carefully selected. The very first one. One two months in. And the one from April 12th. 

Shiro watches Keith’s curled in form carefully as the videos play for the horrified jury. His head bowed low over the laquered table, shoulders drawn together, hands slipped under his shaggy hair to press over his ears. He wants to move forward, move down the aisle and gather the boy into his arms, reassure him that no one would ever touch him again. But he couldn’t do any of that. The promise would be empty. 

Allura spent a long time talking. By the time she was halfway through her version of events there wasn’t a dry eye in the room, including Shiro. Then, once everyone was properly shaken up inside, she called up her witness. The name sent gasps through the room. 

Eileen Bachelor. 

The woman shuffled her way up to the stand, not looking Allura in the eye even when she was seated. Shiro held his breath as he waited for Allura to tear into her.

“Mrs. Bachelor, were you aware of the abuse occurring in your home?”

Eileen shook her head silently, and Allura tsked behind her teeth. 

“So Keith was lying when he said he told you?”

The woman hesitated, licking her lips, but eventually spoke in her soft voice. “No, he didn’t lie. He told me.”

“So you  _ were  _ aware of the abuse.”

“I thought he was lying.” Eileen responded, angry eyes darting up for a split second before dropping again. “The social worker had warned us that he was a problem child, said he was prone to getting into fights and causing trouble. I thought he was trying to get attention.”

“Alright, you thought he was lying. What was your response?”

Eileen swallowed anxiously and looked down at her lap. Her brow furrowed as though she was debating whether or not to tell the truth. The judge cleared her throat pointedly. 

“He told the truth earlier.” She sighed. “I did lock him in the closet. It’s a punishment I’ve been using on the more difficult children for years.”

Allura didn’t say anything to that. She didn’t need to. “Did you approach your husband about the accusation?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“The same thing I did. That he was just lying to get attention.”

“Did it ever occur to you that Keith might be telling the truth?”

“Honestly, no. But now... “ She dared a glance in Keith’s direction, who stubbornly refused to look at her. “Now I’m not so sure.”

“No further questions.”

Honerva didn’t bother to cross examine. 

* * *

“The jury finds the defendant not guilty.”

Everything after that was a blur. Shiro was relieved at the outcome, but still jittery. He’d been doing a lot of thinking the last few days about this case-- about Keith. He was 18 now, too old to go back into foster care. He wouldn’t be going to prison, but with all of the negative press surrounding the case, it was unlikely anyone would hire him. Best case scenario he’d get a shitty apartment with an even shittier job and be miserable. Worst case scenario he’d be homeless, and anything could happen to him then. 

Shiro wasn’t about to let that happen. The last few months of working this case, the more he learned about Keith and his life, the more he wanted to help him. Wanted to give him the home he’d never had. 

So after all of the formalities, after all the posturing and bullshit, he used his position as lead detective to get access to the holding cell Keith was being kept in before going back to the jail until the proper release paperwork could be filed. He was sitting on a bench, slumped against the wall in his rumpled suit. He looked exhausted. 

“Detective?” He asked quietly when Shiro stepped into the room. 

“Hey, Keith. How are you doing?”

Keith blinked slowly, as though surprised by Shiro’s gentle tone and apparent concern. The idea that he’s so unused to basic human kindness makes Shiro’s heart ache in his chest. 

“I’m… processing.” Silence reigned for a long moment before Keith decides to speak again. “Why are you here?”

“I was just wondering if you’d thought about what you’re going to do after being released.”

His lip twitches into a smirk. “I dunno, go to Disneyland?” He says, and Shiro is startled into a laugh. Knowing that Keith was still a smart ass kid underneath all of that fear made something in him warm-- gave him hope that he could come out of this. 

“But seriously,” Keith continued, brow furrowing, “I haven’t, uh, thought about it. I’m still waiting for someone to burst in and say it was all a misunderstanding and I’m going to prison after all.”

Shiro nods in understanding. “Right. Well, I just came to tell you that if you need a place to stay, my door is open.”

“What?” The question comes out in a squeak, Keith jerking back against the wall as his hands leapt to cross over his chest now that they were no longer bound. “You mean, you would… you would let me… But why? I don’t have any money, I couldn’t pay rent or anything! And… and you don’t even know me.” Suddenly, his eyes go to slits. “If-- if you think you can try and  _ use  _ me like-- like Ethan did, then you’re wrong.” 

It’s a threat, but he’s shaking like a leaf when he makes it. Shiro puts his hands up in surrender, kicking himself for not foreseeing this reaction. 

“No, Keith. I promise that’s not what I’m trying to do. I just want to help.”

“But  _ why? _ It doesn’t make sense! The first time you met me I was covered in blood after killing somebody. Why would you invite someone like that into your home?”

“The jury just decided that wasn’t your fault.”

Keith practically looked betrayed. “I don’t understand.”

“Look, I’m a cop.” Shiro said, forcing a painful smile that felt more like a grimace. “I do this job because I want to make the world better. And to me leaving an eighteen year old on the streets after being through a murder trial isn’t making the world better. But it’s up to you.”

The boy sat back and regarded Shiro for a long moment. He could see the gears turning in his head, weighing pros and cons and trying to envision and prepare for every possible outcome. 

“I don't trust you.” He said eventually, and Shiro has to pretend really hard that it doesn’t sting. “But… I don’t have anywhere else to go. So… alright.”

When Shiro smiles this time, it’s genuine.

* * *

“This will be your room.” Shiro said as he nudged open the door to his guest room. “It’s not too big, but the door locks from the inside.” He chanced a look at Keith, who nodded slowly even as his eyes flicked every which way around the apartment, cataloging every detail. He bites back a sad sigh. “Whether you lock it or not, I’ll always knock and wait for you to let me in. If you say no, I won’t go in, no questions asked. That sound good?”

Keith tilted his head. It would be a curious action, if he’d been looking at Shiro’s face rather than the carpet. 

“Yeah. Thanks.” He shifted a bit on his feet, clutching the strap of the backpack slung across his shoulder. It hung nearly empty on his back, and Shiro made a mental note to take the kid shopping when he got his next paycheck. 

“Great. Other than that there’s not much else. You can go wherever you want in the apartment, though if you leave I’d appreciate a note so that I know you’re alright. My work schedule isn’t set in stone, so there aren’t definite meal times or anything. You can eat whatever you want from the kitchen, use the TV, all that stuff.”

Keith nodded again. 

“Alright, I’ll let you get settled in. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”

He’d barely made it halfway down the hallway before Keith was speaking.

“Hey, uh, detective?”

Shiro turned with a gentle smile. “Call me Shiro.”

“Ok… Shiro.” Keith fidgeted once again, swishing one foot over the floor the same way he had in the interrogation room. “I guess I was just wondering about my dads knife. How long are you guys gonna keep it?” He peered anxiously at Shiro from underneath his bangs.

“I’m not sure.” Shiro had to admit with a self deprecating frown. “Considering the nature of the case they might keep it for awhile, but I’ll see what I can do to get it back for you.”

“Thanks.” The word was a whisper, but it was accompanied by a trembly, unsure smile, and Shiro’s heart swelled. It was tentative, fragile, but it was progress. 

The next two weeks passed quietly as they got used to each other. Shiro made sure to give Keith his space, and didn’t try to talk to him about how he flinched when Shiro moved too quickly or how he crept around the apartment like he was an intruder instead of a guest. Those things would get better with time. But not everything could be ignored so easily. 

Shiro was violently reminded of that fact one Sunday morning as he threw something together for himself before leaving for the station. Keith had stumbled in, clearly just out of bed from the state of his hair and his tired eyes, and made his way to the cabinet that held the glasses. He reached up for one, stood on his tiptoes, but his sleepy fingers refused to cooperate properly, and the glass slipped between them. 

It shattered against the floor with a noise so loud it made Shiro jump. Keith had hit the floor directly after it, falling to his knees and frantically gathering the shards in his bare hands. 

“Keith,” Shiro said, but before he could take even a step forward Keith was crumbling forward, bracing his hands on the floor and barely avoiding the wayward glass. He was trembling, and it wasn’t until that moment that it occurred to Shiro how he must appear to the younger boy. Much bigger than him, much stronger, and in a position of authority in more ways than one. God, he must be terrifying. 

“I’m sorry.” Keith stuttered out, fingers twitching against the tile as though he was torn between trying to clean up the glass and remaining perfectly still. “I’ll clean it up, I swear. I’ll clean it up.”

Slowly, Shiro lowered himself into a kneel. “Keith, it’s alright. I’m not angry with you. It’s just a cup, not a big deal.” 

Keith didn’t look up or answer, only began gathering the shards again. His hands still shook. 

“Hey,  _ we’ll _ clean it up, alright? You don’t have to do that, let me get the broom.”

He froze. He didn’t look any more comfortable or at ease, but Shiro figured it was the best he was going to get, and took the opportunity to fetch the broom and the dustpan. When he returned Keith was standing upright in the middle of the kitchen, shattered pile of glass at his feet, unmoving as a statue. Shiro moved carefully around him as he swept up the debris, making sure he didn’t move too quickly. After he’d deposited the last of it into the trash can, he leaned the broom up against the wall and returned to Keith, who still hadn’t moved an inch. 

“Are your hands ok?” He asked, keeping his voice low and hopefully not confrontational. Keith wordlessly holds them out for him to inspect, palms up. Shiro doesn’t miss how they tremble, and he doesn’t try to touch him. 

“Alright, doesn’t look like the glass cut you.” He glances at the time on the microwave and bites back a sigh. “I have to go to work, but I’ll be home in a few hours. Just-- I’m not angry with you, ok? Things happen. Try not to worry about it too much.”

Keith said nothing.

* * *

“Hey, Shiro!” 

One hour before the end of his shift, Shiro’s attention is caught by Matt waltzing up to his desk, evidently bored and in need of a fellow employee to distract. As usual, his victim of choice is Shiro. 

The lanky man tossed himself into the chair next to Shiro’s, throwing his limbs every which way in his best impression of a starfish. 

“So…” He drawled with enough fake nonchalance to make Shiro sigh and rub his temples, “How’s life with your new delinquent roommate?”

Shiro ran a hand through his hair. “He’s not a delinquent, Matt.”

“Alright, alright. How’s life with the new  _ roommate _ ?” 

“Not great.” Shiro admitted, leaning back in his desk chair and officially declaring defeat on getting anymore work done until Matt scurried off. “He’s really skittish. He dropped a glass this morning and practically had a panic attack.”

“Mmmmm.” Matt kicked up a foot onto Shiro’s desk. “He could probably use therapy.”

“Probably. But I’m not sure how well he’d react to that.”

“You won’t know unless you ask him.”

Alas, Matt was right, so Shiro steeled himself for the awkward conversation that would await him at the apartment. 

When he got home, he was shocked to discover the whole apartment had been cleaned from top to bottom. Keith was nowhere in sight, which made him nervous until he knocked on his bedroom door and received a quiet response. 

“Hey, bud. Can you come out for a sec?”

There’s a slight pause before he heard the soft thump of footsteps and the door opened. Keith usually held himself stiffly and at an arm's length, but now was even worse. He was raised up on the balls of his feet like he was preparing to bolt, eyes quickly measuring how Shiro stood in relation to the door and determining his escape options. Shiro stepped to the side, not wanting him to feel hemmed in, but Keith didn’t relax at all.

“The apartment looks nice.” Is what he decided to lead with. “Did you do all this?”

Keith nodded, his voice tiny and barely audible when he spoke. “Yeah… I don’t like sitting around doing nothing, and since I don’t pay rent or anything I figured I should do something to… I don’t know, earn my keep, I guess.” He kept his head tucked down between his shoulders, speaking more to the carpet than to Shiro. Shiro was doing his best not to appear threatening, but he was starting to understand that Keith would be on edge regardless of what he did. 

“You don’t have to do that, but I will admit it’s appreciated. Thank you.”

Another jerky nod and Keith shifts anxiously on his toes. He had to get to the point, before Keith jumped out of his skin. 

“Look, I was just wondering if you’ve ever thought about seeing a therapist.” 

His head shot up, confusion furrowing his brow. Shiro kept his expression relaxed and open, waiting patiently for Keith to figure out his answer. 

“I… I’ve thought about it, but I couldn’t ask you to pay for that, not after everything else you’ve done for me.”

“Keith, it’s not--”

“No!” Shiro blinked, surprised by the interruption. Keith still looked scared, his hand trembling where it gripped the doorknob, but that fire that Shiro had gotten a few glances of before was burning full force now and it wasn’t going to let him back down. “No. I’m really thankful for everything you’ve done for me, I really am, but I’m not a charity case. I won’t do anything like that unless I can pay for it myself.”

Though disappointed by the answer, Shiro couldn’t help but feel proud of Keith for this. Standing up for what he wants and doesn’t want, even through the fear and in spite of past experience. 

“Alright.” He conceded. He wasn’t going to force Keith into anything, not after risking so much in this defiance. If he made him go anyway it would only shatter any trust Keith had built up in Shiro over the last few weeks, and he wasn’t willing to let that go. 

So he couldn’t make him go to therapy, but what he could do was give him the tools needed to get himself there. So he made a call, nudged an application in Keith’s direction, and a week later he had a job as a mechanic in a nearby garage owned by Allura’s godfather, Coran. 

Of course Keith wouldn’t have accepted if he thought it was charity, and it wasn’t. Turns out the kid actually knew his way around a wrench, and anything he didn’t already know he picked up lightning quick. It took less than a month before Coran was bragging about his skill to both Shiro and Allura, and Keith finally saved up enough money to start seeing a therapist. 

Slowly but surely, things were beginning to improve. Keith was less reserved; he began spending more time out of his room, spoke louder, initiated conversations with Shiro and even began to show his dry, deadpan sense of humor. Honestly, it was nice to come home after a day of dealing with death to another person instead of an empty apartment. 

Six months after he’d moved in with Shiro, Keith had approached him and meekly asked for his help registering for classes at the local community college. Shiro had beamed at him, laughed delightedly and ruffled his hair, too proud for words. Over the course of that afternoon they got him set up to pursue an Associates in engineering, and the look of cautious excitement on Keith’s face when they’d finished did funny things to Shiro’s heart. 

He’d never had siblings, never had the desire to, but Keith was rapidly becoming something like a little brother. 

Shiro didn’t regret a single thing. 

* * *

_ He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this, but Ethan didn’t care. Nobody ever cared.  _

_ His shoulders were burning, wrists bound tightly with scraps of torn sheet and fastened to the headboard. He pressed his face down into the mattress, trying to ignore how the tears running down his face were soaking the pillowcase forced between his teeth.  _

_ He’d long since left his body behind. He’d learned this trick a few weeks back-- letting his consciousness float somewhere far away so that he didn’t have to acknowledge what Ethan was doing to him. But he couldn’t block out everything. _

_ Sharp pain crinkled over his scalp when his hair was pulled, forcing his head up from the mattress. Ethan’s hot breath fanned over his face as he spoke.  _

_ “You’re mine.” He huffed, giving Keith’s hair another tug. “You hear me? No one else will want you-- not now, not after being defiled by me. You’ll never be anything more than this. Nothing.”  _

_ He tried to ignore the words. Tried to convince himself that they didn’t matter. After all, no one wanted a problem child orphan with a list of incident reports a mile long to begin with. This didn’t change anything.  _

_ His efforts were in vain. The words wormed their way underneath his skin and sunk in their claws, unwilling to leave. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want to belong to him, but no one had ever cared what he wanted and that wasn’t about to change now-- _

Keith didn’t wake from the nightmare until he fell right out of his bed. 

For a long moment he just stared up at the ceiling, breathing hard and trying to banish the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. At some point he’d kicked the blanket away and now it lay on the floor near his feet, a sad dark lump. 

There are soft thumping footsteps in the hallway, followed by a series of gentle knocks on the bedroom door. 

“Keith? You ok bud?”

He isn’t surprised that it’s Shiro. Every time he heard Keith having a nightmare he’d appear at the bedroom door, knocking and offering to help. Some nights Keith would open the door, follow Shiro into the living room where they could watch TV together until morning came. Other nights he’d refuse to unlock the door, refuse to leave the safety of his room, and Shiro would sit outside the door and talk to him. 

This time, Keith didn’t think before he scrambled to his feet. He slammed the lock to the side, ripped the door open, and threw himself at Shiro. 

It was the first time he’d ever hugged Shiro, so he was understandably startled and took a moment to respond. Keith, though, was practically frozen. It had been so long since he’d hugged anyone, so long since he’d had genuine kind touch. It felt like warm flames licking up his spine and tingling in his fingertips. 

Shiro, being barely a head taller than Keith, wrapped his arms around his shoulders in a return of an embrace. Keith melted. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t really want to answer--  _ what if Shiro thinks the same thing what if he reconsiders and kicks him out what if he hates him what if what if what if _ \-- but he didn’t want to scare him, either. 

“Just--” His breath heaved suddenly, “Just a nightmare.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Shiro’s voice is still gentle, still so gentle no matter what, and the wild adrenaline that had been kicking in Keith’s chest finally calmed. He never actually talked about this stuff to Shiro; he saved all of the trauma and angst for his therapist. But it never stopped Shiro from asking, even when Keith was hidden behind a locked door with his voice trapped in his throat. 

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, but he opens his mouth and the words come pouring out. 

“I don’t want to belong to him.”

He feels Shiro’s breath catch under his cheek, and a hand begins to rub gentle circles between his shoulder blades. 

“You don’t, Keith.” Shiro murmurs to him. “You never did.” 

“But--”

“You’ll never belong to anyone but yourself.” He says firmly, his voice brokering no argument. “No one can ever own you.” 

Warmth painted his cheeks as the tears slipped out, but for once Keith didn’t care. At that moment, Shiro sounded so much like his father, kneeling in front of him and grasping his shoulders while he spoke so earnestly. 

_ “Nobody can tell you who to be. You create yourself.” _

“Ethan is nothing more than a corpse rotting in the ground. He has no power.” 

“I know.” Keith said, dragging in a steadying breath. After all, he was the one who put him there. “Thank you, Shiro. For everything.”

When he spoke, Keith could hear the smile in his voice. “Happy to help.”   
  
  



End file.
